


Battle Royal

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: F/M, Fighting Friends, Ryoma is an idiot, but sweet when he wants to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:24:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9475472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: “Osakada?”“Ryoma! You never call me.”“I need your help.”“That’s a first. You must really be desperate.”“Kind of.”“Well, I’m listening . . .”Or, Ryoma does the right thing in the stupidest way possible and it blows up in everybody's face.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neko11lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neko11lover/gifts).



> This is my contribution for the RyoSaku Exchange, run by @theryosakuexpress on Tumblr. This gift is for @kriselledraws.
> 
> Note for my giftee: I went the route of Ryoma being in the middle of a friend fight because it sounded hilarious. Of course, it didn't turn out that way, and I might've played with your 'nopes' a little, but it all works out in the end because I love me some happy ending. Please don't get scared; they'll all be okay, I promise!
> 
> Also, I would've posted this a few days ago, but I legit struggled to figure out a title for so long and I just said screw it and settled on one. It probably sucks, but meh. It still won't be the worst title I've come up with.

The belt of the treadmill dashes beneath Ryoma’s feet as he starts on Sweaty Mile Number Five. He’s never been a fan of spending his off-season running, but with a foot of snow on the ground outside of their Manhattan townhouse, it’s hardly practical to take the forty minute taxi ride to the gym to get his workout in every day. Especially when Karupin, his now twelve-year-old cat and second of his name, glowers at him every time he opens the front door and lets in the cold.

But even as Sakuno muses that no one should be out in this weather, the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it,” she mumbles, even though Ryoma will never hear her over his headphones. Closing her book, she slides her feet back into her slippers and tugs her sweater a little bit tighter as she pads to the entryway, giving Karupin and his doleful gaze a wide berth. The peephole is frozen over, much to her lack of surprise, so with a fortifying huff of breath, she opens the door to greet their unexpected guest.

“Tomo-chan!” Sakuno squeaks with surprise as her oldest friend draws her in for a brisk embrace. After all, even though they talk on the phone twice a week, they haven’t laid eyes on each other for almost three years — it’s been this way ever since Sakuno had agreed to move to America with Ryoma for a variety of reasons. Because she protects his interests outside of tennis. Because he would only consume burgers and soda if she weren’t there to make him eat properly. Because he’s bad at calling his mother to let her know he’s doing well.

And, of course, because she loves him.

After knowing Ryoma for almost twenty years, Sakuno thinks she understands him enough to say he probably feels the same. He never says it and she doesn’t really expect he ever will, but it lingers in the subtle ways they coexist. He’ll bring her a plushie from every place he travels without her because he knows she sleeps in their bed surrounded by them when he’s away. He only pretends to forget her birthday so he can surprise her later with a nice night out. He knows she gets nervous in crowded places and takes her hand so they don’t lose each other in the bustle. And when she doesn’t feel good for whatever reason, he always lets her fall asleep in his arms even when he prefers to sleep alone on his side of the bed.

But Tomoka is there, and all of that can wait. “What are you doing here?” Sakuno asks in English, even as she ushers Tomoka into the house and takes her soggy overcoat. Realizing who she’s actually talking to, she switches to Japanese. “You must be freezing!”

“Why do you two live here on purpose?” Tomoka complains as she rubs her reddened hands together and huffs warm breaths between them. “Tokyo doesn’t suck in the wintertime like this, and the trains actually run on time.”

Giving Tomoka a tight smile, Sakuno nods in agreement despite not having taken the subway since Ryoma’s agent Alex had politely suggested several years ago that her personal safety is worth the extra cost of a taxi ride. She hadn’t wanted to waste Ryoma’s money, but Alex insisted that Ryoma had plenty and wouldn’t mind the expense. The advice had been good, and something she plans to send along with Tomoka when she heads back to the airport. But for the moment she’s here, and Sakuno is so happy to see her.

They move on to the kitchen, where Sakuno presents a steaming pot of tea, complete with a bowl of sugar to suit Tomoka’s sweet tooth. However, Sakuno’s cheer slowly melts along with the sugar crystals when she notices that her normally chatty friend is staring into her cup as she mindlessly stirs. “Tomo-chan, are you all right?”

“Oh, yeah.” Tomoka offers her a fake grin as she adds, “Just tired from the trip.”

“Of course.” Sakuno looks around the room, eager for inspiration to fill the awkward silence between them, but practicality wins out as she says, “I’ll take your things up to the guest room.”

Tomoka waves her hands and shakes her head. “No, no, no! I can just stay in a hotel. I’m sure Ryoma doesn’t want me in his house any longer than necessary.”

Sakuno’s eyes widen at Tomoka’s almost spat-out remark. “Why would you think that? If Ryoma hated having you around, he would just tell you. You know what he’s like.”

Glowering, Tomoka takes a long drag of her tea and stands up. “Yeah, I do.” Gripping her bulky suitcase, Tomoka sighs and says, “I’m tired. I’m going to check into my hotel.”

“Nonsense!” Sakuno scrambles up to tear Tomoka’s suitcase from her hands and runs up the stairs with it. “Come on up,” she calls from the landing.

As Tomoka wearily treads after her, Sakuno frowns as she opens the door to the ill-used guest room, glad the housekeeper tends to it regularly and doesn’t allow the grime of neglect to greet the few visitors they do get. Tomoka follows her to the room, leaves a quick peck of a kiss on her cheek, and closes the door behind her. 

Blinking in surprise, Sakuno blindly heads back to the kitchen to stare at their used teacups.

“Who was at the door?” Ryoma asks as he reaches into the refrigerator for a soda, mopping his brow with the hem of his t-shirt.

Sakuno sighs as she washes up the remnants of her odd conversation with Tomoka. “Oh, Tomo-chan is in town.”

Ryoma quirks a brow. “You don’t look happy about it.” The soda can cracks open, but he sets it in front of her idly drumming fingers instead of taking a drink. He props his forearms on the table and leans closer with a chuckle. “Did she forget the secret handshake or something?”

She can’t stop the smile that creeps onto her face. “It’s nothing. I think she’s just tired from the trip. You know how it can get when you’re on a plane for a whole day.”

Ryoma ruffles her hair and takes another soda from the fridge. “Ah, you two’ll kiss and make up in the morning. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah.” His words soothing the unease in her belly, Sakuno fixes dinner while Ryoma finishes up his workout, and Tomoka’s odd behavior slips from her mind. Her previous worry doesn’t flare back up again until early the next morning, when Sakuno hears Tomoka downstairs loudly whispering with somebody.  “She has no idea,” Tomoka hisses, her regular puckishness very present in her voice. “Game on.”

Wondering who could possibly be in her house and talking to Tomoka, Sakuno rushes down the stairs, only to find Ryoma with his feet on the table reading the paper, while Tomoka stirs something on the stove. “Oh, you’re both up!”

“Well, duh,” Tomoka chides. “I can’t really sleep fourteen hours, Sakuno. I’ve been up for a while.”

Ryoma shrugs. “I smelled Japanese food and came down a while ago.”

The smell of miso wafting through the kitchen, Sakuno laughs. “I could cook it more if you want. You just haven’t asked for it for a while.”

The covert conversation from before she enters the room flags from Sakuno’s attention, and they settle down to eat together. All signs of Tomoka’s previous enmity toward Ryoma is seemingly gone. Ryoma heads upstairs for his bag so he can head for the indoor courts nearby. Sakuno finishes the dishes and Tomoka dries, but as soon as the door closes behind Ryoma, Tomoka drops the towel and sighs heavily. 

“We need to talk.”

That raw discomfort from the night before drops in Sakuno’s stomach again as she gulps. “Oh?”

Resuming her task, Tomoka blurts, “Sakuno, what are you doing with your life?”

The dish in Sakuno’s hand slips into the sink and cracks. “Wh-what?”

Tomoka slams the towel on the counter and she wheels around to point her finger right at Sakuno’s nose. “What are you planning to do with the rest of your life? You’re spending the best years you’ve got playing babysitter to a man-child. You don’t have a husband or kids, and you’re stuck with a guy who won’t give you either.”

Jaw dropping, Sakuno gasps, “Tomo-chan! How could you say something like that?”

“Because I love you, Sakuno.” Tomoka grips Sakuno’s shoulders and gives her a gentle shake. “Ryoma is taking everything worth having from you, and what will you have left when he retires and doesn’t need you anymore? Is that really what you want?”

The words soak into Sakuno’s brain, and she feels herself tremble as her hands ball into fists at her sides. “That isn’t true,” she murmurs, eyes screwed shut and nails digging into her palms. “That isn’t true at all.”

“Are you sure?” Tomoka’s fingers wind tighter around Sakuno’s upper arms. “Are you sure that ten years from now, you won’t regret giving twenty years to someone like Ryoma?”

“Never,” Sakuno hisses. Anger boils in her chest as she wrenches out of Tomoka’s grip. “I love Ryoma,  _ Tomoka _ ,” she says with a little more strength in her voice. “And he loves me.” Fists balling even tighter, she steps closer to Tomoka until they’re nose to nose. “I don’t know why you would come all this way to say such horrible things, but if that’s why you’re here, then maybe you should leave.”

Tomoka gapes at her and backs away. “If that’s what you want,” she answers quietly. “I just want to help you.”

“Well, don’t.” Sakuno crosses her arms and fixes Tomoka with a glare she hadn’t known she was capable of. “If you want to help me, keep awful things like that to yourself.”

“I —”

“I’ll make a few calls. If you want to stay in New York, fine, but do it at a hotel.” Sakuno wheels around, fighting the sting of tears in her eyes as she stalks out of the room. Shaking hands fumble on her phone as she speed-dials her usual taxi company, barely squeaking out her address by the time she reaches her laptop to book a hotel room. She looks away from Tomoka’s blank stare as she woodenly walks to the door and waits for her cab. An hour later, the person she had been so happy to see the day before is gone.

And she has never felt so alone.

Sakuno debates calling Ryoma and asking him to come home, or just to hear his voice, but she knows he buries his phone in his locker while at the gym and would never answer. Instead, she makes tea that quickly becomes too cold to drink as she stares out the kitchen window after the taxi that has long departed.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, she muses as she mentally retraces the years that have gone by. While obsessed with Ryoma in middle school, Tomoka had dropped her childish hero worship of him in high school when the rest of their batchmates had moved on to chasing each other around in a tsunami of hormones and Ryoma had remained firmly entrenched in his goal to conquer the tennis world. But as much as she searches for it, Sakuno cannot pinpoint the point where Tomoka’s feelings toward him had turned into disgust.

Ryoma finds her like this an hour later as he comes straight into the kitchen after returning from his outing. “Sakuno, you need to talk to Osakada.”

“No.” Sakuno shakes her head as she dumps out her tea in favor of wringing her hands. “You don’t know what she said.”

She starts when Ryoma’s larger hand closes over hers and stops their nervous twisting. “I have a pretty good idea. I should know; I asked her to say it.”

Gasping, Sakuno gapes at Ryoma, only to see the telltale red outline of a handprint on his cheek. “What happened?” One of her hands slips from Ryoma’s grasp and traces the angry lines. “Are you all right?”

“I got what I deserved.” Ryoma sighs and shakes his head with a wry chuckle. “Osakada’s got one hell of an arm on her. She should’ve kept up with tennis. She’d have a power serve by now.”

“Tomo-chan did  _ that _ ?” Sakuno’s jaw drops, her fingers squeezing Ryoma’s tightly. But then his words sink in, and she asks hesitantly, “You  _ asked  _ her to say that?”

Ryoma guides her to the living room and settles them on the couch before slumping with his hands hanging between his knees. “Call it trying to do the right thing in the stupidest way possible. She found me at the gym and told me what happened between you two, and when I asked her to straighten it out, she told me to do it myself or she’d make my face match. She’s probably right to say it, too.”

The next few moments find Sakuno staring wildly as Ryoma says more words at once than she has ever heard him do in the twenty years she’s known him. “I’m not an easy person,” he starts, slumping back on the couch as he chortles at the ceiling. “I’m mean without meaning to be, and sometimes, I really do mean to be like that. I’m inconsiderate, closed off, and rude, and you’ve seen more of that from me than anyone else I know. But you’re still here, which tells me a couple of things:

“Sakuno Ryuuzaki, you either like me a lot more than you should or you’re an idiot.” He reaches over and tugs on the tips of her hair before running his long fingers through the length. “I miss your braids. Your hair’s too short for them, now.”

“You always told me my hair was too long.” But even as she says it, she leans into Ryoma’s touch. “Do you want me to grow it out again?”

Ryoma tugs Sakuno onto his lap and kisses her breathless. “Do what you want,” he murmurs against her lips. “You deserve it.”

Almost forgetting about Ryoma’s out-of-character burst of honesty, Sakuno reels back. “Wait, what is this all about?”

With one last peck, Ryoma eases Sakuno into the crook of his arm. “I just needed to be sure.”

“Sure of what?”

“That you know all of this already and you still want to . . . you know.”

“Not really.”

“Stay with me. For good.”

Sakuno sits upright to Ryoma looking at her intently. “I thought you knew how I felt.”

“But what if that changes?” He pats the fading red mark on his cheek. “I’m not exactly a prince, you know. You’re probably way too good for me, and one of these days, you’ll realize it.”

A laugh trickles out of Sakuno’s mouth and escalates until she’s gasping for air. When she can finally manage a breath, she wheezes, “You’ve always been my prince. That’s the first thing Grandma called you the day I met you, and that’s never changed.” She reaches up and flicks the tip of Ryoma’s nose. “You may be a jerk of a prince, but you’re mine, Ryoma-kun.”

Fighting a smile, Ryoma notes, “You haven’t called me that in years.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” she murmurs as she leans in for a kiss. “Now I have to call Tomo-chan and beg her to forgive me.”

“Mmm, probably, though she won’t forgive  _ me  _ anytime soon.” Ryoma pulls out his phone and redials with a huff. The line comes alive, and Ryoma says, “You can come back now.”

The tinny strains of Tomoka yelling through the receiver meets Sakuno’s ears, almost too loud to make out, but even as Tomoka rails at Ryoma, it’s hard for Sakuno not to smile. Her best friend came all the way from Tokyo to help Ryoma make sure they’re really meant to be, and she can’t think of anything better.

The call ends and they sit quietly, curled into each other before Ryoma finally says, “I’ll let you pick out the ring. I probably have terrible taste.”

“Take Tomo-chan. She’s much better at stuff like that than me. I barely know how eyeliner works.”

“I might do that, but if she beats me within an inch of my life, you’ll be the first person I call.”

“I’ll be a grieving widow before we even get married!”

Their eyes meet and they both chortle, at ease and ready for what comes next.

 

**_Omake_ **

Sakuno opens the door to a shivering Tomoka, who tromps past her in a beeline toward Ryoma. “Stupid, stupid Ryoma!” she rants, punctuating her point by pummeling Ryoma with her handbag. “Why did I let you talk me into this?”

“It worked out,” Ryoma says as he shields his face from her attack. “I said I was sorry.”

“And so am I,” Sakuno interjects, and Tomoka’s hand stills. “Tomo-chan, I’m very sorry I threw you out. I was upset and I —”

The breath is squeezed out of Sakuno’s chest as Tomoka crushes her with a fierce hug. “I just want you to be happy, Saku-chan.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done being all mushy,” Ryoma says, but Sakuno doesn’t miss the nod he shares with Tomoka.

She holds on a little tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you liked it. To Kriselle, if you have an AO3 account and want me to add you as the giftee, please let me know so I can do that. ♥


End file.
